One Red Day at a Time
by xfmoon
Summary: Even small things can leave a major impact.


**A/N: **Takes place approximately a year post RJ's demise.

**Disclaimer: **I own small things and big things, red things and blue things but not the rights to The Mentalist.

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She wore a deep emerald green dress, with a thin sloping red line that went from her right shoulder down to just below her left knee at the hem of her dress. The dim lighting in the room might hide her between the smoking clad men and the more vibrant dressed ladies, but to him she lit up the entire room, and was the most beautiful person there. The cheerful humming of happy voices filled the hall that was usually darkened by the presence of thieves, murderers and suspects alike. As he stood beside her listening to her explain one of their more complicated cases to Rick from narcotics, he couldn't help but be fascinated by the way the candlelight lit up her features. The flickering yellow flame highlighted her light makeup which brought out her cheekbones and her dimples when she laughed at the other man's jokes. The flattering light reflected the green in her eyes that matched her dress perfectly, and subtly made her stand out from the rest of the crowd.

The annual CBI Christmas party was well underway, and if it hadn't been for her insistence, he wouldn't have been here at all. But she wasn't really one he could easily say no to, so right now he was trying to enjoy himself, cold-reading the people he usually worked with and keeping an admiring eye on Lisbon at the same time. She was capable of taking care of herself, but things were different now and he'd already seen more than a few wolves in the CBI pack giving her a hungry lookover. Appreciating how well she cleaned up, and all her feminine charms beneath her usual rough exterior.

The evening was more or less uneventful. People mingled, punch was drunk, songs were sung and a few chaste kisses were being exchanged under a well tucked away mistletoe. As the night dwindled the guest went their separate ways, well wishes for the holidays were heard in the hallways and doors for the people that were lucky enough to have Christmas off. Lisbon and Jane too were heading home after saying their goodbyes.

They walked hand in hand through the parking structure, until they reached his old Citroën DS. Yes, a lot had changed for them, yet he still had his beloved car and as always she was still convinced it was a deathtrap rather than an actual car. She wasn't complaining much tonight though, had probably had a little too much wine and just wanted to go home and get out of those fancy high heeled dress shoes she'd only bought for this occasion. Home, that was another thing that had changed, they now shared one. Some might have thought it fast, them moving in together so soon after what had happened, but when you get to be their age you really don't feel like you have any time left to waste, and they had both agreed they'd already wasted enough time.

They drove home in silence, him at the wheel while Lisbon nodded off to the soft jazz music he'd put on. She was the most adorable creature when she slept - so calm and peaceful, almost innocent, unmasked - that one might never know how fierce she really was, how tough, loyal and goodhearted. He would never stop wondering what he'd done to deserve her.

He notched her gently awake when they reached the house. She stretched, got out and they walked in together. As soon as the door closed behind them Jane captured her in an embrace and pressed his soft lips to hers. She closed her eyes and signed while his thumb caressed her cheek. His other hand had travelled up to her meticulously made hairdo. He unclasped the buckle, releasing a flood of dark curls, which he ran his fingers through, not releasing her mouth in the process. She in return had taken a firm grip with both hands in his golden neck curls, keeping him in place as he explored her mouth.

She tasted of the rich, red burgundy they had served with dinner, which blended well together with her flowery gardenia perfume and her ever lingering smell of cinnamon. It was a homely mix that assaulted his senses and made him feel safe and loved. They broke apart to catch their breaths.

_"I have wanted to do that all night."_ He said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

_"What? Mess up my hair?"_ She asked sarcastically.

_"Yes that and tearing that dress off of you..."_ She smiled at his quip. _"Didn't think Bertram would find that too amusing though so I refrained from doing that."_

_"Well I'm glad you restrained yourself for once, but you better not rip it, it wasn't cheap."_

_"As you command."_ He said and scooped her off her feet before she could argue, carrying her to the bedroom. They made love in the dark, the full moon outside the window - the only light that could be seen in the room - made the shadows dance in step with their rhythm. Afterwards they contently fell asleep entangled in each other's limbs.

As morning dawned, bursting sunrays through the window, Lisbon woke only to find the bed empty. She thought nothing of it until she heard a faint noise coming from the floor. Her first thought was mice, but she disregarded that rather quickly. She sat up, instantly alert, tugged the sheet around her naked body and crawled to the end of the bed where she carefully peered down to find a huddled over Patrick Jane. He was naked, sitting with his head pressed against his knees and his arms protectively wrapped around his legs. Most of all he looked like a human ball. She was puzzled at what had brought this on and slightly amused, but that was only until she saw how his shoulder blades moved up and down as he heaved an unsteady sigh and thereafter began to shake all over. She put her warm hand on his shoulder, he was chill to the touch, and he flinched in surprise at the contact.

_"Patrick, what's wrong?"_ Her voice was soft and caring.

_"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"_ He sniffled, trying to compose himself, but failing.

_"Did you have a nightmare?"_ She asked as she got down from the bed and sat next to him, enveloping him in her sheet. He in turn immediately wrapped himself around her body, snaking his arms around her in a tight hug and laying his head on her chest. Making her steady heartbeat calm him down. And then he began sobbing, warm tears ran from his eyes, dripping down unto her bare chest. She started humming softly - like she'd done for her brothers when they were small and afraid - rocking him from side to side, running her fingers soothingly through his soft, golden curls. They stayed like that for a long while, even after the tears had stopped, neither of them speaking.

Eventually he let go. Looking up at her worried green globes as he recollected his composure.

_"I'm sorry."_ He said.

She just shook her head. _"You have nothing to be sorry about. Do you wanna talk about it?"_ She asked but wasn't going to press him. She knew he didn't want to be more of a burden to her than he already was, but if their years together had taught them anything, it was that she didn't mind carrying the load for him in times of trouble.

They didn't get up, were still sitting on the floor when he spoke again. Him with his back to the bed trying to avoid looking at her, while she had her side to it and studied his face as he talked, cataloguing the lines that ran just a tad deeper than usual.

_"I, I got up to go to the bathroom." _He took a deep breath._ "And when I came back I saw you..." _He halted momentarily, she didn't interrupt, instead she simply put one hand on top of his, letting him know it was okay and that she was there for him.

He took a deep breath like he was going to start over then said: _"I saw you..., the sheets jumbled everywhere, exposing your skin and..."_ His defense mechanism set in, and he went for humor. _"You're such a messy sleeper."_ A faint trace of a smile graced his face, and she mirrored the expression, but both their smiles faded quickly, and silence settled into the room once more.

_"Your toenails." _He whispered. She quirked an eyebrow and looked down at her feet, then realization dawned on her. _"My nail polish."_ She simply stated.

_"It's red..."_ He continued almost inaudible. _"You were so quiet... I saw it and thought... I thought..." _She took her other hand and clasped it around his, so she now held his one big hand in both of her smaller ones, then she raised it to her mouth and kissed it gently. He closed his eyes against the tender touch, consecutively heaving a shaking sigh. _"I thought I'd lost you too... I know he's gone. But, but everything came back and I... I just couldn't..."_

_"Shh, shh, it's okay Patrick. I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm right here."_ She moved closer to emphasize the fact, taking him in her arms once again, embracing his shaking, broken form. Holding him tight, hoping to transfer some of her strength to him in the process. _"I'm so sorry. I didn't think. I'll throw it out right away."_ She said.

_"You shouldn't have to. It's just nail polish. I'm the one that's a mess." _

_"Of course I do. And I have always known that about you, you know. Not a big secret, but you're my mess and I love you regardless. Besides nail polish come in plenty of different colors, I'm sure I'll find one I like, and it's not like I use it every day anyway."_

He smiled, feeling the darkness he always carried with him lift considerably. _"I love you too."_

She smiled and moved to get up: _"Come on back to bed, it's cold down here on the floor."_

_"Okay." _He said, got up and sat on the bed, however Lisbon went in the other direction. He managed to catch her arm: _"Hey where are you going?" _His voice revealed that a little of his playfulness had returned.

_"I'll be right back, don't worry."_ She said, shaking free of his grasp and walking into the bathroom. And sure enough 5 minutes later she was at his side again. He took one look at her and knew she'd just thrown away her bottle of red nail polish. She was a woman of action! And she was his. Looking down at her toes he now only saw the bare nails with a hint of a pink tint - leftover which the nail polish remover hadn't been able to wipe away - the red long gone, never to return.

_"I'm sorry."_ He said again, laying down on his back staring up at the empty ceiling, while she climbed up in the bed next to him nestling into his side and draping an arm protectively across his chest. She kissed his cheek to pull him out of his ruminations. And it worked. He turned his head until their eyes met, four pools of blue-green watery orbs. Sadness meeting worry.

As they lay there a single tear found its way through Teresa's armor. Empathy, it was a terrible mistress. He brushed it away with his thumb. Didn't like the idea of him making her weaker. She had opened up to him and it had left her exposed, vulnerable. Like right now for instance, where she was literally naked, her skin warm against his own. Stripped of any pretenses. Only love remaining. That was real trust.

He wanted everything to be perfect for her, she deserved so much more than this, so much more than he could ever give her, and she deserved to be happy and carefree. But that was never going to happen. With him and the person she was, she was bound to worry and be the strong one for the both of them. And he let her, because he needed her to pull him up and above the water he still at times felt like he was drowning in. It was never going to go away, the loss, the guilt, the fear, he knew that. And he'd given her many a chance to run away, but she'd stuck with him, like a bug on a fly paper. Reassuring him time and time again that he wasn't going to drag her down with him. He wasn't so sure about that, but the ache seemed to lessen each day he was with her, giving room to form some new and happy memories. They just had to take one day at a time, trying to overcome the small obstacles presented to them..., like red nail polish. There was always going to be a solution, whether easy or hard. And though he would never _not_ be broken, as long as they worked at it - together, partners in crime so to speak - he would be able to move on, and be happy again.

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**A/N:** I know the ending sucked, I'm really bad at them. This one, too mushy, going from something concrete to something introspective? I sometimes just seem to move out a tangent.

I left all the 'what happened to RJ' vague on purpose, there's just too many possibilities even at this late point and anyway they don't do anything for this story.

_Possible plot hole?_: If you think it strange that Jane didn't notice her nails before the party, I blame her new shoes. There was also the night, well they got home late and did stuff in the dark so... don't shot me.


End file.
